


Poison Ivy

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Deputy Killian, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Ridiculousness, Sexual Humor, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 15:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: A ridiculous and silly little ficlet about what happens when an OTP who can't keep their hands off each other come in contact with poison ivy.





	Poison Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by my husband recently getting into some poison oak while doing yard work. Lucky for me, I'm not at all allergic to either poison oak or poison ivy. I could roll in the stuff and not be affected. So then I thought, what if our OTP wasn't so lucky? ;)

     Sheriff Emma Swan made her arrival to the station so loudly known that it made Killian jump. And pirates are normally difficult to rattle. Emma stomped, kicked a chair, cursed loudly, and tossed her red leather jacket violently across the room.

     "That woman," she fumed, pacing with her hands on her hips.

     "I take it the weekly meeting with the mayor went well," Killian noted dryly as he sipped his coffee.

     Emma rolled her eyes as she perched on the edge of Killian's desk with her arms crossed. "Do you know what she had the audacity to suggest?"

     Killian raised both eyebrows. "Can't say that I do."

     "She suggested that the two of us were using the station to . . . to . . . " Emma blushed uncharacteristically as she gestured vaguely with her hands. "Engage in . . . workplace sex." She turned absolutely crimson when she finally blurted it out, then got up and began pacing again. "She said we can't keep our hands off each other in public, so naturally she had to assume were making good use of our time alone here. Those were her exact words, Killian! Can you believe her?"

      When Emma turned to her husband, she was irritated to find him smirking. One eyebrow was quirked, his chin was dipped, and his tongue slid scandalously across his bottom lip. "I'm afraid I can believe her, love. Or have you forgotten the way we used my desk just yesterday?" He then lounged back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the top of said desk.

       Emma threw her head back and groaned in frustration. "That was just the one time -"

      "And the time on your desk, and the time on the cot in the cell, and the time against the bars in the cell, and the time with the handcuffs -"

     Emma cut him off with a hand to his lips. "You've made your point." Then she sighed, her hand still pressed to her husband's mouth. "But we're going to stop. As in right now. Got it?"

      She could feel Killian's warm lips spread into a smile beneath her hand, and as she gazed into his eyes, she thought for about the hundredth time how expressive those blue eyes could be. She read them like a book in that moment - and they screamed that he didn't think she had the self control. Then he had the audacity to part his lips and swipe at her fingers with his tongue.

     "Killian Jones!" she screeched as she yanked her hand away.

      "Alright, Swan," he laughed merrily, "we will be nothing but business from now on."

          ***********************************************************************************

     Emma's side ached and her calves protested as she ran full tilt through the woods. A month of peace in Storybrooke, and she had gone completely soft. This was what she got for making sex her main source of exercise (although Killian was rather good at giving her a thorough, full body workout). She jumped over a log and winced as the shock reverberated through her legs.

     "Through that brush!" Killian shouted ahead of her as he veered to the left.

     Emma almost immediately heard Tootles shout in protest as Killian shoved his way through a thick cluster of bushes. Since her husband seemed to have caught the miscreant, she took a moment to breathe, bending over her knees as she clutched her side. Killian made his way through the thick undergrowth, hauling a scowling teenager by the scruff of the neck.

     "What is this?" the kid screeched, swinging at Killian without making any impact. He was short for fifteen, and rather soft around the middle with a head of curly red hair.

     "You were vandalizing public property," Emma panted.

     Tootles sagged in Killian's grip, his expression turning suddenly repentant. "I'm sorry. I swear I won't do it again."

      Emma crossed her arms and scowled at the former lost boy. "You've said that before. Your foster parents said the next time we picked you up, to let you sweat it out in the holding cell."

     "What!" Tootles eyes went wide with shock.

      "You heard her," Killian muttered, shoving the boy forward, "now march."

          *******************************************************************************************

     Later, Emma would have to admit that she had no defense for what happened next. It wasn't as if one thing just led to another. Oh no. The whole way back to the station with Tootles, she had replayed in her mind how Killian had looked racing through the woods. The way the muscles of his backside clenched in those tight jeans of his. The way he didn't even get winded. How lithely he had sped over roots and fallen logs. So by the time they had returned to the station, called Tootles parents, and got the juvenile delinquent locked up, Emma was positively hot and bothered. Which was why she followed Killian into the filing room.

     And why she had locked the door behind her.

     She would never hear the sound of a slamming drawer the same way again.

          **********************************************************************************************

     The first sign of something being amiss was Tootles. His scratching was so loud, it was distracting Emma from her paperwork. Then the boy was whining that he itched, and could he PLEASE call his mother. Killian snapped at him to shut up.

      But then Killian started itching, too. Emma thought nothing of it at first; he was always itching behind that damn ear. (Honestly, it was adorable.) It was also nothing new for him to itch at his scruff occasionally, or even his chest hair. But soon he was scratching so much it drew Emma's attention.

     "Killian!" she cried out.

     "Bloody hell," he muttered as he looked down at his good hand.

     "I tried to tell you," Tootles whined from behind the bars. "Now can I call my mom?"

     "No," Emma and Killian snapped simultaneously.

     Emma looked sadly at the bright red rash covering Killian's hand. His clothing had protected most of his body, but the rash crept up his exposed chest, along his neck, and up around his ears. She could even see a red rash beneath the scruff on his chin and cheeks.

     "Oh baby," she sighed in sympathy as she reached out to run her hand through his hair, but then she thought better of it, and gave his shoulder a squeeze instead.

      "What is it?" Killian wasn't even looking at her as he asked, just staring in horror at his reddened hand as he scratched at his chest with the curve of his hook.

     "Poison ivy," Emma explained. When she saw the look of horror on her husband's face, she rushed to explain, "but not really POISON, like dreamshade. It just gives people a really bad rash."

     Emma bit her lip as she looked over her husband then at an equally red and splotchy Tootles. It was clear the plant wasn't something found in Neverland or the Enchanted Forest.

     "And you didn't think to warn me before I went barreling through it?" Emma winced at Killian's words, but as she watched him scratching his neck carefully with the pointed end of his hook, she knew he was simply cranky and miserable with the itching.

     "I'm sorry, babe. I've lived most of my life as an urbanite. I can never remember what the stuff looks like. The saying is . . . what? Leaves of three let it be? I don't even know. And does that mean three points on one leaf or three leaves on the stem?"

     "Well it doesn't bloody matter now," Killian muttered, rubbing his affected hand up and down his jeans. "What am I supposed to do?"

     Emma sighed and grabbed the keys to the bug. "I'll go get some Calamine lotion."

          *****************************************************************************************************

     Dark Star Pharmacy was completely empty, so Emma asked Sneezy to tell her all that he knew about poison ivy. The dwarf was thrilled to be asked for his professional assistance, and told her more than she ever wanted to know as he rung up the Calamine lotion.

     "And make sure he washes his hands - er, hand," Sneezy continued as he handed her the bag, "if he touches anyone with that ivy sap still on his hands, or other parts of his body, it will spread the rash."

     Emma froze as she took the bag, the color draining from her face.

     "Damn it."

          *****************************************************************************************************

     Regina Mills stood smirking in front of a very sheepish (and very red, very blotchy, and very pink) Sheriff and Deputy of Storybrooke.

     "You know, I would have expected this from the pirate. But you, Sheriff?" Regina's mouth twitched as she looked at Emma, barely containing her smile. "I would have expected more self-control from you."

     "Shove it, Regina," Emma muttered as she squirmed in her seat, rubbing her jean-clad rear end against the hard leather of the booth at Granny's.

     Unfortunately, there were some places you just couldn't itch.

 

 


End file.
